Special Delivery
by goldenxpaladin
Summary: A one shot of Cloud Strife facing his devils on a special Delivery.


"_You know buddy, you shouldn't run so much from your problems?_"

Tender kisses from the sky dropped against spiky golden locks; cold water droplets from predicted weather. He was running late, _really late_. The cold water hitting against closed eyelids brought him back to reality. He had never been the one to live in reality it seemed, living in the past was his home. He would hush soft words, hardly being able to be heard even from himself._ Time to go_. . . were the words, almost being choked back. Today was a very special delivery, and he was already running late. The sound of the engine flaring to life would echo around him, filling the air, making small creatures run against the grass to hide shelter. The rain that was once droplets would start to come down faster as time grew. The last thing he wanted was a storm to be trailing behind him. "Lets go, Fenrir." He said before his bike would rip into the dirt, screaming headway.

Colors of brown, and green raced by him. He seen each, and every single one of them from the corner of his eye, wishing that every tree that he passed by, every rock that he kicked beneath his tire, every hiss from a fiend or monster were sins. Sins that he could run away from, and never return. But as he made his way away from the forest, more trees would follow him. He swore that the trees had mouths, for they whispered his insecurities to him, telling him heart crushing realism. With every word, with every whisper that he heard from the trees, he made no reply. His hands just tightened on the grip handle. He drove faster. As fast as he could. Is this how you run away from your demons?

"You're **Weak**. Cloud Strife!"

"You let her **die** Cloud Strife!"

"You can't protect those you care about."

". . ."

"You can't even protect yourself!"

". . . . ."

_No. . ._ He thought to himself, not letting his mouth move with his thoughts. Keeping stare clouded from the darkened lenses. As he continued to drive, he made his way outside of the forest, and when he did? Those thoughts sunk their teeth into his mind, let go; but he knew that much like that forest that had been there since he was a child, so would the devils, waiting to sink their claws into him once more. _I don't run from my demons. ._ .

The motorcycle would finally come to a stop. The village had been left abandoned for many years, except for a certain few people that had wanted to live out their lives in the god forsaken place; despite Shin-Ra caring less what would happen to the village or what would possibly become of it. The roaring of the motorcycle had stopped for 10 minutes now, but the delivery boy had yet to move from his cycle. Thump. That was his heart, screaming that he was still alive; or perhaps he was just a husk of a scared little boy, who was trying to carry a legacy he never asked for? Or maybe he was, and always has been, a fake.

After ten minutes at staring at the house, cloud would finally get off his cycle, walking over towards the house. He went to knock on the door, but his knuckles hesitated. No. He couldn't. He couldn't face them. _Not here_. **Not anywhere**. Reaching into his side pocket, he pulled out a small envelope, with a picture inside. Kneeling down, he slipped it underneath the door, making sure that it was completely inside the door.

"Hey, dude? You wanna see my parents? I know, kinda cheesy I bring a picture with me of them, huh?"

"I don't think that's cheesy at all. My mom would pack my lunch for me if she could. . ."

"Haha! Our mom's would get along great then, wouldn't they!? Hey maybe I can introduce you to them sometime huh? I think that would be nice."

"Yeah. That would be nice Zac-"

"I don't run from my problems. . ." He would say quietly to himself. He couldn't even knock on their door. What would he say to them? What was he supposed to do? It was his fault that Zack was dead. The hero from Gongaga. The very same hero that saved his life, more times than he could count. His best friend. He was suppose to carry his legacy; it was heavy, too heavy sometimes. Getting back on his back, he placed his goggles back against his face, revving his engine back to life. "I don't run from my problems, because. . .they find me."


End file.
